


Will You Stay Even if It Hurts?

by LegitimateTrash



Series: Breathe in, Breathe Out (You and Me Now) [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Asthma, Gen, Hurt and comfort, Mark has asthma, Platonic MarkGyeom, Sibling Vibes, and like whoops now it's kinda serious, jackson has pink hair, jaebeom is trying his best, lowkey unresolved ending, markgyeom are just friends though, milo makes an appearance, sick mark, this was supposed to be fluffy but then I sprinkled in mild angst?, yugyeom is the sweetest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29055462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegitimateTrash/pseuds/LegitimateTrash
Summary: Mark is having a rough day and Yugyeom tries not to worry too much.
Relationships: Kim Yugyeom/Mark Tuan
Series: Breathe in, Breathe Out (You and Me Now) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131662
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47





	Will You Stay Even if It Hurts?

Jaebeom is talking to Yugyeom.

It’s probably something important, probably something about their choreography and the stage show. They’re backstage, just getting off after recording their performance of Last Piece and about to do Breath. 

A stylist hovers around Jaebeom adding last minute touches to his hair as Jaebeom discusses something that involves entirely too much hand movement.

Jaebeom pauses and looks expectantly at Yugyeom. Yugyeom nods, and their leader continues on about god knows what.

Yugyeom’s not listening. What he’s doing is watching Mark.

The older boy is sitting next to BamBam on the couch, smiling at whatever Jinyoung is saying. BamBam laughs and Mark laughs with him and maybe Yugyeom is reading into things but he can’t help but notice the way Mark’s hand strays to his chest, hovering over it like it hurts.

“-yeom? Yugyeom?” Jaebeom asks, waving a hand in front of his face.

Yugyeom has the good grace to blush. “Uhm, yes?”

Jaebeom looks at him in exasperation. “So do you think we should change it or not?”

To change or not to change. That is the question. Change what though, Yugyeom has no idea. Fifty-fifty chance here. “Uhm.. no?” Yugyeom guesses, hoping it doesn’t sound like as much of a question as it is. 

Jaebeom rolls his eyes. “Yeah, me neither. Lucky guess, kid.” His eyes flit over Yugyeom, searching. “You seem distracted. I know things have been pretty crazy lately but I’m never too busy if you wanna talk?”

Yugyeom’s lips part in a smile. “I know.” And he does, but he’s not going to add to Jaebeom’s stress, not when the source of his distraction will inevitably get mad at them for worrying. “Thanks, hyung.”

Jaebeom smiles tiredly before jogging over to their manager to talk about their next schedule, and Jackson comes back after changing his outfit wearing the cutest headband that Yugyeom just _has_ to tease him about, and soon they’re getting called back out.

The lighting changes, the cameras start rolling and Yugyeom starts dancing, losing himself in the music.

The last beat hits and they hold their final position, the camera zooming in on Jinyoung as the ending fairy (which, yeah maybe the camera crew is Jinyoung biased, but hey have you seen the guy? A little favouritism is allowed) and the director yells “Cut!”

Panting but happy, they make their way backstage for yet another outfit change before they head off to their next schedule. 

Putting on skinny jeans when you’re hot and sweaty should be a crime, but Yugyeom somehow manages while still laughing at BamBam as he does another poor imitation of Jackson’s Pretty Please choreo.

One of their noonas ushers them outside and into the vans, and Yugyeom tries not to be too obvious as he makes sure to choose the same van as Mark. 

Mark beelines to the back seat and flops down, tilting his neck up. Yugyeom scrambles into the back with him even though it’s cramped and his legs will get all squished. Jaebeom claims shotgun and passes out as soon as he hits the seat, trying to fit in a quick nap, and Youngjae takes a middle seat, slamming the door closed. 

Mark’s wheezing fills the van, raspy but not choked enough to be dangerous. Youngjae still turns in his seat. His round eyes trace Mark’s shaking body, filling with sympathy. 

“Not doing too good, huh?” he asks gently.

Mark shrugs, uncapping his inhaler.

Youngjae frowns, watching Mark’s chest heave up and down. “When did it start?”

“The attack? This morning I guess, when I woke up.”

“ _This morning_ ?!” Yugyeom hisses, looking at Mark in disbelief.

Mark waves his hand around. “It’s minor, m’fine. Wish I had my spacer though.”

Minor. 

Yugyeom is well aware that there’s different types of attacks, that sometimes there’s minor ones that Mark can dance through and will truly be fine, and then sometimes there’s acute attacks that come on without warning and can leave Mark so exhausted that he can’t even get out of bed.

Just- seeing Mark struggle to breathe? Nothing about that ever seems minor to Yugyeom.

“You don’t have it with you?” Youngjae asks, a little line of worry forming between his eyebrows. He’s twisted completely around in his seat now, reaching out to put a hand on Mark’s knee.

Mark shakes his head. “Jinyoungie has it with him. Says I would just lose it.”

“You would,” Yugyeom agrees, maybe too quickly, and Youngjae hushes him. “Not the time,” he reminds.

Mark gasps a little bit, clearing his throat before taking a puff of his inhaler. He holds the medicine for a count of four before coughing into his sweater. It’s deep and congested-sounding, and even when he stops coughing there’s a slight rattle in his lungs on each exhale.

Yugyeom bites the inside of his cheek. “You sound awful, hyung.”

Mark shrugs. “No worse than normal.”

“How reassuring,” Youngjae says sarcastically before turning around, leaving the youngest to deal with Mark, hoping that his soft spot for the maknae will come in handy.

“You should do a neb treatment when we get there. We always have your stuff with us, you can set it up real quick before the shoot starts,” Yugyeom suggests.

Mark shakes his head. “You know they make me all shaky and tired, we still have some interviews left after this one.”

Which- why the fuck is it so difficult for everyone in this group to take care of themselves? 

Yugyeom runs a hand through his hair. “I can wake Jaebeom-hyung up, ask him to get the shoot pushed back so you can rest for a bit?”

Mark shakes his head quickly, immediately shooting down the suggestion. “No, let Jaebeom sleep. And we can’t afford to push this back anymore, not because of me.” But as soon as he finishes the sentence he’s coughing again, shaking his inhaler before bringing it back up to his lips.

Yugyeom’s shoulders sag. “Hyung…”

Mark sighs and knocks his leg against Yugyeom’s. “Look, I know you’re just trying to help, but I swear it barely even hurts. Just let me ride it out naturally.”

“Barely?” Yugyeom repeats, “As in, _it does_ still hurt?”

Mark groans and drops his head into his hands. “You worry too much.”

“People are allowed to care about you, Mark-hyung, it’s not considered _‘too much’_.” 

Mark smiles sadly. “It’s just a rough day Gyeomie,” he says softly. “There’s nothing you can do to fix it. Maybe you can drop it for now?”

Yugyeom hesitates, but eventually nods. He reaches over to poke Mark in the stomach. “You’re so stubborn, you know that?”

Mark grins. “I’ve been told.”

_

To be fair to Mark, he does actually seem relatively okay throughout the rest of their interviews. He nods in all the right places, answers all the questions well, and laughs at the expense of his other members whenever they’re being clowned.

Yugyeom almost finds himself forgetting about his previous worries.

Almost.

It’s not until their last interview of the day when Yugyeom watches Mark and Jinyoung head into the back corner of the room while everyone else is getting set up, that he realizes he can hear Mark wheezing. 

Jinyoung leans in close and whispers something in Mark’s ear, running a hand up and down his back. Mark shakes his head and says something back, pointing to Jinyoung’s stuff. Jinyoung holds Mark’s gaze for a minute longer before his shoulders drop and he hands Mark his bag. Mark nods gratefully and quickly slips from the room, heading out into the hallway unnoticed. 

“Yugyeom-ssi please sit down we need to check your microphone,” one of the hosts says. 

Yugyeom nods distractedly, “Right of course, thank you.”

A couple minutes later Mark slips back in the room. He’s pale, but he smiles when he notices Yugyeom looking at him. Mark goes to sit at the empty microphone near the end of the table, but Yugyeom quickly pushes Youngjae up out of his chair, ignoring his affronted yelps to shoot him a meaningful look. 

Youngjae’s eyes flit between Yugyeom and Mark, taking in the way the older boy seems a little unstable on his feet. “Wait Mark-hyung, is it okay if I sit there?” Youngjae asks loudly, going over, “I wanted to talk to Jinyoung-hyung about something.”

Mark doesn’t catch on to the subtext, only agrees easily and sits next to Yugyeom, Jackson on his other side.

It’s a radio interview- no video, thank god- which means that Mark spends the whole interview with Yugyeom’s hand at the base of his neck, massaging it gently. It also means that no one cares when halfway through Mark starts to play with Jackson’s fingers as a distraction from his laboured breathing. 

Actually, Yugyeom notes, maybe someone does care. Jackson turns a nice shade of pink that matches his hair when Mark starts tracing the veins in Jackson’s hand. Jackson makes eye contact with Yugyeom, sending him a _Mark-is-stroking-my-hands-send-help_ sort of look, but Yugyeom only shrugs.

It’s Mark, and he’s sick, and thus he can do whatever the hell he pleases. (Not like he couldn’t anyway. Yugyeom might be proud of the fact that he’s curated the group to live in a maknae-on-top society, but damn if Mark can’t get away with some shit.)

Throughout the interview Mark hardly says anything, but no one notices, and Yugyeom figures that there’s gotta be some perks to being quiet. 

The interview comes to a close and they thank the hosts before heading out into the parking lot, Yugyeom’s hand wrapped securely around Mark’s waist as much for his benefit as for Yugyeom’s peace of mind. 

BamBam blabbers on beside them as they walk, happy to fill the empty space with words. “Text me tonight, hyung?” he asks Mark, shaking the older boy’s shoulder, “I have to send you that video I was talking about, you’ll cry laughing I swear.”

Mark agrees, and BamBam keeps talking, and to the outside eye it might seem like he’s oblivious to the situation, but Yugyeom knows for a fact that BamBam rambles when he’s nervous, because even if he can’t fix the problem at least it’s something to do.

Before Yugyeom can usher Mark into the van, Jaebeom jogs up and gives Mark a half fist-bump half handshake. He looks at the eldest seriously. “Make sure you get some sleep,” he instructs.

Mark huffs out a laugh, tugging on Jaebeom’s hand. “You guys aren’t subtle, like, at all.” His lips twitch up. “Thanks though. And you too, no late night studio sessions.”

Jaebeom smiles, letting his hand drop from Mark’s. “No promises,” he calls, heading over to the other van and dragging BamBam along with him.

Mark shakes his head once before climbing into the backseat of the van, Yugyeom following suit and Jackson and Jinyoung claiming the middle seats.

They turn onto the highway and Jackson snags the aux cord which means that they’re now listening to music that is much too upbeat for how tired they all are. Jinyoung and Jackson start to bicker and Yugyeom turns to Mark. “Can I come over tonight?” he asks. He’d been planning on coming over anyway, but with how Mark’s feeling now there’s no way he’s leaving him alone tonight.

Mark shrugs. “Sure. I haven’t been grocery shopping in awhile though so we’re going to be eating instant ramen.”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes. “Don’t pretend like you don’t live off that stuff anyway.”

“Whatever,” Mark laughs, leaning his head against the window, “It’s not like you can cook either.”

Yugyeom pretends to look offended. 

_

Jinyoung lives the closest, so he’s already been dropped off when Mark climbs around Jackson’s legs. Jackson says something to him in Mandarin which makes Mark roll his eyes, and he says something back which makes Jackson smile. 

Jackson grabs Yugyeom’s hand before he can step completely out of the van. “Can you let me know how he’s doing?” Jackson asks quietly, trying to make sure Mark won’t hear even though he’s already halfway up to the building entrance, “I just… I asked him to update me but you know how he downplays things.”

Yugyeom smiles knowingly. “Gotta check on lover boy?”

Jackson flushes. “What? No I-”

Yugyeom laughs. “Relax, I’m kidding. I’ll just text the group chat, Jinyoung-hyung will probably ask me anyway.”

Jackson nods, a little hint of relief creeping onto his features. “Okay, see you tomorrow Yugyeom-ah.”

“Bye Jackson-hyung!” he calls as he slams the door shut.

_

The elevator ride up to Mark’s apartment is quiet save for the sound of Mark’s wheezing, and Yugyeom feels the need to do something to break the silence. He catches Mark’s eye in the elevator mirror and grins, starting to dance to an invisible beat, shimmying and giving Jinyoung’s grandpa dance moves a run for their money. 

Mark snorts which only makes Yugyeom dance harder, trying to bring a smile to the boy’s face. Yugyeom is much too occupied doing a sort of robot style dab that would make BamBam proud, to notice that the elevator has stopped and someone else is getting on. Mark- the little shit- says nothing and only bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing when Yugyeom finally notices the little old lady who is gaping at him from behind. 

Yugyeom freezes, arms above his head and knees bent, horrified.

The old lady shuffles forward, concern taking over the intiant shock on her face. And she must think he’s hungover, or high, or maybe clinically insane, because she reaches out and pats him on the elbow saying, “It’ll get better, honey.”

Yugyeom blushes bright red and snaps his arms down to his sides, attempting to bow respectfully. “Yes, thank you,” he squeaks out.

The old lady (thankfully) hobbles out of the elevator on the next floor and there’s a few seconds of silence after the metal doors slide closed before Mark is hunched over cackling, tears filling his eyes from laughing so hard.

Yugyeom hides his face in his hands.

“I _cannot_ believe that just happened,” Mark gasps out in between cackles.

“Hyungggg,” Yugyeom whines, “Why didn’t you tell me she was there? That was so embarrassing!”

Mark shakes his head, still laughing his ass off, “And miss your face when you realized? That was _priceless_ Yuggie, people pay money for that kind of thing,” he wheezes.

Yugyeom pouts, and the elevator dings. He takes Mark’s hand, dragging him out into the hallway and up to his door. “C’mon,” he huffs, trying to fight down his grin.

Mark pushes the door open, twisting out his key and is hit by a ball of curly white fluff. “Milo!” Mark laughs, picking up the small dog and holding him up to his face, letting the dog give him puppy kisses. “I missed you too, bud,” he cooes, kicking off his shoes and twirling the little dog around. 

Milo spots Yugyeom from over Mark’s shoulder and yaps happily, squirming in Mark’s hold. Mark puts him down and he races to Yugyeom, pawing at his legs.

Crouching down, Yugyeom rubs behind Milo’s ears. “Hey buddy, I couldn’t bring Dalkyum this time so you’ll have to settle for me,” he teases.

Milo licks Yugyeom’s hand before racing off into the kitchen, Mark trailing behind him. He picks up the dog bowl from the ground and dumps out the little remnants of water into the sink before turning on the tap. Milo laps up the fresh water once Mark places it down, making satisfied puppy noises. 

Mark grins as he watches, and it gives Yugyeom war flashbacks of when Mark and Youngjae were co-parenting Coco, who was almost as mischievous as her owners and liked to run around wreaking havoc on their old dorm.

Mark opens the cupboard that has Milo’s food in it and Yugyeom goes over and opens the fridge, seeing what he has to work with. Which, not much. He pulls out some baby carrots and a sad looking zucchini before going over to the pantry and taking out garlic ramen for himself and extra spicy ramen for Mark. 

The coughing is back now- probably worse from all the laughing, Yugyeom notes guiltily- and Mark is heaving by the time he sets down Milo’s food. He sits down heavily at the kitchen table and Yugyeom frowns. “I’ll go get your neb.”

Mark doesn’t even put up a fight, just rests his forehead on the wood table, murmuring under his breath, “It’s on my dresser, left corner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yugyeom calls over his shoulder, going straight for Mark’s room. He knows exactly where it is, having seen Mark use it countless times before and even setting it up a few times himself. He grabs the machine in one hand, taking medicine vials in his other before heading back to the kitchen. 

Silently he plugs the machine into a wall outlet and then pours the liquid albuterol into the little medicine cup. “You got your prescription upped again,” he notes, looking at the little black numbers on the side of the bottle. 

Mark hums, not taking his head off the table. 

The nebulizer starts to hum, mist fogging up the mask. Yugyeom nudges Mark in the side before handing him the mask. Mark sighs and sits up, slipping the mask on over his face only to sag in relief as the first round of receptors hit his lungs. 

Yugyeom squeezes Mark’s shoulder. “Better?”

Mark nods weakly, eyes slipping closed. Milo finishes the food in his bowl and hops over to Mark, jumping up to scramble into his lap. Mark doesn’t flinch, just places a hand on Milo’s back and strokes the fur in calming, practiced motions.

Yugyeom must’ve been hovering for a while now, because Milo turns his head to him and lets out a little growl, seeming to sense how sick Mark is and wanting to protect him. Yugyeom snorts but lets the little dog win, filling a pot with water and setting it on the burner before plopping down on the couch, making sure he still has a clear view of Mark in case anything happens.

He pulls out his phone and sends a text to the group chat to update them on Mark’s condition before scrolling idly on Instagram for a bit as he waits for the water to boil.

_

Fifteen minutes later, when Mark’s medicine runs dry and his mask stops misting, Yugyeom slides over a bowl of spicy ramen and some cut up vegetables. 

Mark smiles. “Thanks.”

Yugyeom nods and digs into his own meal, already halfway done by the time he realizes Mark hasn’t touched his yet.

“Not hungry?” he guesses.

Mark groans. “Starving. But I’m too jittery to eat.”

Yugyeom tuts, looking at the way Mark’s hands seem to shake slightly from the breathing treatment. “You need to take your pills, man,” he says, already up and heading to Mark’s bathroom to riffle through the medicine cabinet. He comes back into the kitchen with two prescription bottles. 

“They just make me hungrier,” Mark whines. 

“Well you _do_ need to eat.”

“And grumpier.”

Yugyeom laughs, nudging forward the bowl again. “C’mon, it’s your favourite kind.”

Mark looks up at Yugyeom with his big dark eyes. “No pills tonight.”

“Yes pills tonight,” Yugyeom insists, shaking the bottles.

Mark crosses his arms. Yugyeom resists the urge to roll his eyes because Mark is just so _damn_ _stubborn_ sometimes. “At least take the prednisone? For me?” he tries.

Mark brings his legs up onto the chair and wraps his arms around them, hugging them tight to his body. He looks exhausted- so tired of his own body. “The steroids make me feel all spacey and sad.”

“But they help you breathe.”

“And they make me want to sit in front of the refrigerator and eat till I pass out.”

“And they also calm the inflammation in your airways so the oxygen can reach your lungs easier so you don’t die,” Yugyeom says, waving his hands around, “And not dying is a pro that kinda overshadows every con you just listed.”

Mark’s eyes float over Yugyeom slowly, a hint of surprise on his lips. “How’d you know that?”

“Hmm?”

“How’d you know how prednisone works?” Mark asks, and Yugyeom feels his cheeks heat up.

“Uhm,” his voice cracks as he looks at the bottles in his hands. He knows that Mark of all people won’t care, but it just seems weird to admit something you thought you never would. “Remember when you had pneumonia a while ago? When we were doing the Japanese promo? Well I read all your prescriptions and looked the names up online while you were asleep.” He swallows, cheeks still burning. “Because I wanted to be able to help you if you were sick and the hyungs weren’t around.”

Mark reaches over and takes Yugyeom’s hand. “You’re acting like I should be weirded out that you cared enough to look all of that up. I’m not,” he says, quiet, firm. “I’m grateful. You’ve always been there for me Yugyeom, and that’s not something I take lightly.”

Yugyeom lets out a little noise. Mark has always been blunt, and it’s gotten him into trouble more than a few times. But it also means he’s one of the most honest people Yugyeom knows. “You’re being sappy again,” he whispers, before tugging Mark up and into a hug, arms wrapping around him completely. 

Mark hugs back, warm and solid, filling the spaces that Yugyeom sometimes feels like he’s missing. Then Mark pulls back, laughing a bit. “Who’s being sappy now?” he teases, like he could read Yugyeom’s mind. 

Yugyeom huffs and shoves Mark back into the chair. “Shut up.”

_

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Mark says a couple minutes later after downing a round of pills, mouth stuffed with noodles, “I’m not gonna be very good company.”

“Your Xbox is way better than mine, I _have_ to stay.”

_

Even feeling as crap as he does, Mark still manages to beat Yugyeom in Valorant _and_ Overwatch, so Yugyeom suggests Super Smash Bros, hoping to salvage some of his pride.

To his utmost horror he watches as Corrin absolutely obliterates Yoshi, groaning into his hands. How could someone destroy Yoshi? He’s so cute and like, a dinosaur, which is pretty awesome in Yugyeom’s opinion.

“Round two? So I can redeem myself?” Yugyeom asks, already back to the main menu and picking Pikachu in hopes that Mark’s weird soft spot for the creature will make him less likely to blast Yugyeom’s high score. 

Mark coughs into his shoulder and winces. His sentences come out choppy due to the impaired breathing. “As much... as I would love to w-watch you lose again... my lungs have decided to be especially s-shitty today.” He stumbles getting up from the couch and it’s a sure sign that he’s feeling weak.

Yugyeom drops his controller on the couch, reaching out to steady Mark. “Where’re we going?”

“Bathroom. Wanna s-see if the steam will help.”

Yugyeom steers Mark to the bathroom, letting him walk on his own but keeping his hands out just in case he gets dizzy. Once they’re in the bathroom, Mark turns the shower on to the hottest setting and pulls the curtain shut, watching as the mirror starts to fog up. Yugyeom catches on and closes the bathroom door, allowing the room to fill with steam. 

Mark sits down on the tile floor, back pressed to the sink cupboards and knees pulled up to his chest. Yugyeom slides down beside him. 

Mark’s eyes have slipped closed again, and Yugyeom can tell that he’s trying hard to take deep breaths, to let the steam into his lungs as much as possible. 

A thought pops into Yugyeom’s head, and he isn’t sure why he says it, but he does. “You know, I used to think you were getting high when you did this.”

Mark blinks his eyes open, a surprised laugh coming out. And then Yugyeom thinks that _that’s_ why he said it, because he knew it would make him laugh.

“Really?” Mark snickers.

Yugyeom nods. “Yeah. There was this one time where you and Jackson-hyung were in the bathroom and it was all fogged up and you two were giggling like crazy. BamBam tried to open the door but it was locked and there was a towel at the bottom of the door. We thought for sure you had a bong in there or something.”

Mark laughs again, then winces when it turns into a cough. “We weren’t n-nearly cool... e-enough for that back then,” he wheezes.

Yugyeom pokes him in the side. “You still aren’t.”

Mark makes an offended sound but doesn’t say anything, instead scooting closer to Yugyeom and resting his head on the younger boy’s shoulder. The room is cloudy with steam now, and Mark’s breath is uncomfortably warm on his neck, but Yugyeom can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

“Is the steam helping?” Yugyeom asks softly, afraid to break the calming atmosphere that has settled on the room.

Mark mumbles out a yes.

“Does it still hurt?”

This time he’s met with silence, which is answer enough. 

Moisture collects on the faucet and slides down, a steady _dripdripdrip_ echoing off the tiles, loud enough to be heard over the spray of the shower. Yugyeom tries to focus on that. Tries to focus on anything but the way Mark’s is shuddering against his shoulder, so obviously hurting.

He can’t. 

“I’m scared,” Yugyeom admits, quiet enough that he’s kinda hoping Mark won’t hear it.

He does though, it’s _Mark_ after all. “Why?” Mark wonders, genuinely concerned, tilting his head up from where it’s still tucked into Yugyeom’s neck.

“Because-...”

Yugyeom hesitates here. He’s not- he doesn’t normally do stuff like this. Yugyeom is very non confrontational by nature, slow to anger and quick to forgive. A ‘go with the flow’ kinda guy. 

But some things are too important to let slip through the cracks. Some _people_ are too important.

“Because you’re getting worse.”

Yugyeom feels Mark tense, knows that he’s about to protest. He shakes his head. “Please don’t deny it. I can see it. We all can.” 

It feels a little unfair to be confronting Mark with something serious when he’s feeling so sick, but it’s easier too. Easier to sit here and stare straight ahead at the shower curtains, knowing that Mark is safe because he’s _here_ , leaning on him, but not having to meet his gaze. Not having to be subjected to the intense focus the other boy possesses, perceptive beyond measure. 

And Yugyeom… he’s always liked easy things.

Which is why he carries on, voice coming out a lot calmer than the one in his head. “You keep switching medications and increasing prescriptions because the old ones aren’t working as well as they used to. I see you using your inhaler during practice when you think no one is looking. When you were late two weeks ago, JB-hyung covered for you, said you slept in. But I heard you talking to him after, you didn’t sleep in, you were in the ER.”

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, automatically. Like maybe he’s been at the receiving end of this speech too many times. Like maybe he’s always had to apologize for his own body, had to apologize for existing a bit differently than everyone else.

Yugyeom frowns. “I don’t want you to apologize, it’s not your fault.”

“Then what _do_ you want?” Mark demands quietly. “Because I’ve been trying here. I take all my medicine, I eat right, I do breathing exercises, I’m trying to sleep enough, and still _nothing_ _changes_.”

Mark’s voice is low, empty. He’s not mad, just… resigned. It’s worse.

“I just want you to be okay.”

Mark makes a choked noise, but this time it’s not because of his breathing, it’s because he’s trying not to cry. 

Yugyeom blinks his eyes closed, counts to ten. He’s thankful for a second time that he can’t see Mark’s face, because he hates seeing people cry, especially Mark. But when he reaches ten he opens his eyes again, because it’s _Mark_ and the older boy deserves at least that. 

He guides Mark’s head off of his shoulder, turning his body so he’s on his knees facing him. Mark is looking at the ground, hands curled into fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands. Yugyeom takes one of Mark’s hands in his own, gently pushing at the fingers until they unravel. In their wake are four tiny crescent moons, red against his pale skin.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom whispers, and that’s all it takes for Mark to crumble, tears dripping down his face as he trembles. 

Yugyeom wraps his arms around the smaller boy, pulling him close to his chest, holding him.

“I want to be okay too, Yugyeom,” Mark sniffles, “I really, _really,_ want to be okay.”

Yugyeom rocks him back and forth on the bathroom floor, thick steam surrounding them as Mark cries. Mark’s tears are wet on his shirt and his knees hurt from kneeling on the tile but none of it matters because he knew. _He knew_. 

He knew that even though Mark was fine this morning, laughing and joking with everyone, he _knew_ that he wasn’t okay. Maybe he was okay during the day but how many times has he come home to an empty apartment and had an attack? How many times was he alone, forced to deal with his illness by himself?

Mark pulls away from Yugyeom then, sitting back and wiping at his eyes. “Not how you planned to spend your night, huh?” Mark laughs through his sniffles, “On my bathroom floor while I sob all over you?” 

It’s obvious that Mark is trying to lighten the mood, and while Yugyeom appreciates it, they can’t just gloss over the past few minutes. “Mark-hyung when we moved out of the dorm, things were different. We were all craving independence and space, and it was a big step. But your asthma was under control then, and now it’s obvious that it’s not anymore. And it scares me that when you’re not with the members, or when I don’t sleepover, that something could happen to you, and you’d be alone.”

He’s been thinking about that a lot actually. Sometimes he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and think, What if Mark is having an asthma attack right now? What if he’s struggling to breathe and trying to call someone for help? And then he’ll check his phone almost impulsively, making sure that he hasn’t missed any calls. He never has. 

“We all live alone, Gyeom. Something could happen to any of us.” His voice is a little raspy again from the combination of crying and coughing. 

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, only leans back against the sink cupboards, a hand coming up to rub at his chest.

“Hyung we need to talk about this,” Yugyeom maintains. “And not just us, everyone; the members, your family, management. We need a plan.”

Mark sighs, heavy eyes threatening to slip shut. “I know.”

Yugyeom shakes his head fondly. “But not now.” He pushes Mark’s hand out of the way, because he’s doing a half-ass job in his current state, and starts to massage Mark’s chest gently, hoping to soothe the overworked muscles. 

Mark leans into Yugyeom’s touch, letting himself slump into him. “You’re good at this,” he mumbles, some of the tension flowing out of him. 

They stay like that for a bit, Yugyeom rubbing Mark’s chest, hands looking big compared to the smaller boy’s frame. It’s not until Mark starts to shiver that Yugyeom realizes the steam in the room has almost completely dissipated. They must’ve used up all the hot water, and now they’re sitting on a cold tile floor in slightly damp clothes. Not great for anyone’s health, let alone Mark’s.

Yugyeom pushes himself off the floor and turns the shower off. Mark whines at the loss of contact, heavy eyes squinting up at Yugyeom. 

“Hey,” Yugyeom laughs, “Don’t give me that look. We can’t stay in your bathroom forever.”

Mark grumbles, which in Mark-speak means, _Technically we could._

Yugyeom rolls his eyes and grabs Mark’s hand to hoist him into a standing position. But standing is apparently quite hard in Mark’s half-asleep state because he just sort of puts all his weight on Yugyeom, trusting him to hold him in place. 

“You alright? Not dizzy or anything?” Yugyeom checks, wanting to make sure before they start moving. 

“No,” Mark hums, “M’tired.”

Yugyeom nods sympathetically. “I bet.” And then he scoops Mark up in his arms, carrying him bridal style, ignoring all the older boy’s protests. He deposits Mark on his bed and then grabs two sweaters from the closet. Luckily Mark loves oversized clothing so when Yugyeom replaces his damp shirt with a dry one, it actually fits. 

He helps Mark shrug out of his old sweater and into a new one. “Is that enough? I can go get another blanket if you-”

Mark swats him with his sweater paw, “You sound like Jinyoung,” he complains, “Just come to bed.”

Yugyeom huffs and heads to the door as Mark tucks himself under the blankets, wiggling around to get comfortable. He looks so soft like this, fluffy hair splayed out on the pillow and covers pulled up to his chin. Yugyeom is about to shut the door when Milo races in, nimbly climbing up on the bed, plopping himself down on Mark’s feet. Yugyeom giggles before flicking the lights off and making his way to the bed. It’s kind of early to sleep, but they had a full day and then this whole _situation_ \- needless to say Yugyeom is more than ready for bed. 

He climbs into the left side (he’s slept over so many times it’s a habit by now), careful not to disturb Milo. Stealing some of the blankets from Mark, he lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. It’s too dark to see anything, but he knows it’s there, so he looks at the ceiling, no plans of closing his eyes yet. 

After a couple minutes of silence he starts to drift off before Mark coughs painfully from beside him. 

Yugyeom winces, even though he had been waiting for it. “Want me to get your inhaler?” he asks into the darkness, already sitting up.

“No,” Mark mumbles, tugging Yugyeom back down and resting his head on Yugyeom’s chest, “S’too far. Just stay with me.”

And it’s funny, because that’s what Yugyeom has been thinking, all those nights when he lies awake, wondering if Mark is okay, wondering if their goodbye was his last. 

_Just stay with me._

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, I brought asthma! Mark back. My explanation is...I hurt the ones I love?? 
> 
> Let me know what you liked, and if you want me to write more in the future. 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/demontuan)


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